The Human Canvas
by Aurora Lynn
Summary: Nathan Holler is an artist. He devouts his heart, mind, and soul to his work. But what happens when he discards his pencils and paper for something a little more living? Rated T for reletively gruesome descriptions.
1. Prologue: The Sun Sets

**Summary: Nathan Holler is an artist. He devouts his heart, mind, and soul to his work. What actually happens when he discards his pencils and paper for something a little more living?  
>Warnings: Reletively gruesome descriptions in future chapters.<br>A/N: Thank you for choosing my story to read! This is my first Criminal Minds fanfiction, so please bear with me and give me constructive criticism as necessary. The prologue is a little dry action-wise, not nearly as bloody as the rest of the story will be. Please enjoy!**

Prologue: The Sun Sets

Nathan Holler was an artist. There was no other word that better described him. Yet it could not even begin to scratch the surface. Art was his life, his art reflected life. His sketchbook and paper called to him, like a wolf is called to the moon. Both are inexplicable, and both are inescapable. Luckily, his family was very well off. Therefor he could dedicate his whole life to what he loved to do.

His love of art brought him to a secluded waterfront, almost completely untouched by man-made features. It was mere luck that he found it and common sense that he kept returning for inspiration. It was truly a stunning landscape; a sandy beach faded into a crystal clear lake, stretching far into the horizon. A few trees provided shade for the extremely sunny days, and a particularly comfortable rock provided the perfect place to just sit and think. It was exactly the place that suited his purposes.

This particular evening, Nathan was just sitting by the waterside, enjoying a nice glass of red wine. His sketchbook and pencil were set aside not too far away, waiting for their chance to be used. In a few minutes the sun would dip below the horizon, causing the normally blue sky to morph into a array of different colors. The perfect subject for his drawing capabilities. He took another sip of his wine, feeling a sense of tranquility as the liquid slid down his throat.

His mind was adrift. Gone somewhere that even he didn't know. It was so far away that he almost missed it; he brought himself back just in time to witness the lower tip of the sun to touch the horizon. The entire water side seemed to hold its breath as it waited for the show.

The sky exploded with color in a way that he had never thought possible. Reds, oranges, pinks, and even a hint of purple extended from the sun outward, dancing across the sky. They blended together to create new colors. Colors that the human language doesn't even have a name for. The colors extended to the nearby clouds, causing their white shades to be tinted ever so slightly with pink and orange. The pristine water reflected back the colors shown in the sky, only causing the scene to be even more beautiful.

It isn't often when a mere human has the pleasure of seeing true beauty in its raw, natural state. Nathan was the type of man who searched far and wide for such instances. Yet very rarely did he ever find a worthy subject of his attention. Now that he finally found the perfect source of such beauty, he didn't even feel obliged to record it on his sketchbook. It was enough to just watch.

Nathan leaned back slightly in his chair, shifting his body into a more comfortable position to see the show better. As time passed and the sun set even further, the colors only got more and more brilliant. It was a good five minutes before a sign of life other than himself let itself be known.

A single bird, a pure white bird, flew into his view. Unconsciously his gaze fixed itself upon it. It flew across the sky, going closer and closer to the source of the radiant color. Once it was flying right in the middle of the setting sun, something truly spectacular happened. Its gleaming white feathers transformed into brilliant red and oranges, as if it spontaneously combusted into flames. It no longer looked like an ordinary bird; it had morphed into a phoenix.

Hands twitching with excitement, Nathan quickly grabbed his sketchbook and pencil and began working furiously. This was what he was looking for; the subject for his next masterpiece. A phoenix, reborn from the flames.

His mind drifted into a different world, which it always did when he started to draw. Where time and mortal needs didn't touch him. All he needed was artistic inspiration. The pen seemed to move itself, gliding across the page with such ease that it made him forget there was a time where the pictures didn't come so easily.

Time passed, but exactly how much, he didn't know. He lost track of it. Nathan might have continued that way until the natural light have faded if something hadn't snapped him out of his trance. A noise, a simple thud, and all of his motions ceased instantly. Thirty seconds passed. He didn't hear another noise, and he let his muscles relax. He was about to get back to work when he heard another noise, this time slightly different.

Screaming. High pitched, shrill screaming that only desperation can bring out.

Sighing, Nathan slowly got up from his chair, muscles a bit sore from sitting in one place that long. Just when he thought that things were going to be quiet, something had to happen to cause it to be otherwise. He made his way across the sand to one of the trees, easily the tallest of the bunch. He then crouched down by the base of the tree and brushed some of the sand away with his hand. Within seconds a wooden trap door was revealed. It looked out of place; no one would have guessed that it was right there, hidden under the sand.

The screaming suddenly stopped. Whoever was down there obviously knew that someone was up there. The rattle of chains could be heard Nathan pulled on the handle, revealing a ladder leading into a dark basement-like room. Leaving the door open behind him, he quickly climbed down the ladder and faced the source of the noise.

She was young, only twenty-five, but her fiery orange hair and round face made her look younger than she was. Her ocean blue eyes shown through the darkness, bright saucers filled with trepidation. Nathan could almost hear her trembling as he reached up and turned on the light above him. "I thought I told you to be quiet," Nathan growled, pulling out a switch blade from his pocket. The blade glinted menacingly in the artificial light.

"I-I'm so s-sorry!" the girl managed to get out. Jeannette, that was her name. "I d-didn't mean—" She shrieked as he took a few long strides until there was only a few inches between them.

"You should be," he said, taking the knife and pressing it against her neck. Jeannette pressed herself against the wall, desperate for an escape. "I already told you, no one is going to hear you. No one is going to find you. We're all alone out here—just you, and me. With no distractions." She let out a small sob at the implications; little did she know that he did not want to use her in that way at all. He had much grander plans for her.

"Don't make me come back down here. I would hate to ruin your pretty little face prematurely," Nathan said gingerly, as if he wasn't saying a threat. "I'm almost done with my first sketch, and then… well, and then you'll become my masterpiece." He then removed the knife from her neck and headed back up the ladder, leaving poor Jeannette to sob on the floor.

**There it is, my attempt at a prologue. Please, any and all reviews are welcome. I would really like to make this as good as I possibly can! Hopefully I'll update before the weekend.**


	2. Chapter 1: What the Hell is That?

**A/N: Thank you to all of those who reviewed, subscribed, and favorited this story! Luckily I've been able to update this close to my promise, only a day late. Don't count on this happeneing again. I'm trying to keep this as close to one of the episodes as Criminal Minds, including quotes (which I shall put in the beginning of the next chapter for the jet scene), so any helpful tips on how to do so would be great. Please enjoy!**

**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN CRIMINAL MINDS, NOR AM I WRITING THIS FOR MONETARY GAIN OF ANY KIND. THIS IS PURELY FOR THE ENTERTAINMENT OF MYSELF AND THE VIEWERS OF CRIMINAL MINDS.**

Chapter One: What the Hell is That?

Spencer Reid was, as he usually did in the mornings, drinking a cup of coffee when he got a text from Hotch that they had a new case. He sighed in response, more disappointed than surprised. Life just wouldn't be the same if a case didn't come up that made him drop everything and rush to the BAU. It wasn't like he had a life outside of the Behavioral Analysis Unit. In fact, he was already in his car heading to Quantico to check in when he got the text. He probably wouldn't know what to do with himself if he had a less demanding jobs with semi-normal hours.

Drinking down the last of his coffee with a gulp, he didn't feel any more awake than he did before he started it. That was another thing this job did to people; the more coffee he drank, the less it affected him. It was like any drug dependency, which made Reid wince just thinking about. The more you ingest of a chemical, whether heroine or caffeine, the more of that substance you needed to get the desired effect. He would need another cup before the briefing if he was going to be awake enough to be of use to the team.

He glanced at the clock in the car as he parked his car. In the text, Hotch had said that everyone needed to be there at 8:00 to start the briefing. The clock said 7:59. _Of course the one day I am actually able to sleep in a little bit is the day it's going to make me late,_ he thought as he got out of the car, doing a half jog half run to the bullpen. Apparently he wasn't the only one who was late, because as he walked over to the coffee pot to pour himself another cup of coffee he heard a very familiar voice behind him. "What? I actually come into work at the same time as Dr. Spencer Reid? I must be dreaming."

Without turning around, Reid smiled and said "Good morning, Morgan," completely ignoring his friend's teasing. He had learned that sometimes it was best just to keep his mouth shut.

"What is that, your fifth cup this morning?" Derek Morgan asked.

"Actually, this is only my second," The younger agent replied, motioning to his now empty mug. "I'll need the extra caffeine for this next case."

"Have a tough night?" Morgan asked, even though he knew what the answer would be. Almost every day they went through the same routine, and every day he got the same results.

"Not really, just a bit tired," Reid said, not exactly lying. But not telling the entire truth either. "Caffeine doesn't affect me as much as it used to. It's probably do to the fact that I've been drinking a lot of it. The more caffeine you ingest, the less of an effect it has on your body, so you need more and more of it to have the same result. And I've been drinking a lot of coffee lately." He thought about continuing his train of thought when he realized he was probably boring and annoying the fellow agent. Instead, he started to pour the coffee into his cup.

Morgan had long since stopped paying attention to exactly what Reid was saying, more focused on whether or not he would press with his questioning. It was obvious that he hadn't been sleeping well; the dark circles under his eyes didn't lie. Normally, Morgan would have pressed further, but the pressure of a tight schedule prevented him from doing so.

Instead he said "Well, hurry up with that coffee. We're already more than five minutes late for the briefing, and you know what Hotch gets like if we're late." He paused. "Oh wait, you don't, 'cos you're always early."

Reid stirred his coffee slightly with the straw and poured a scoop of sugar in it. "Speaking of being late, have you seen Prentiss today? I didn't see her in the bullpen..."

"Nope," Morgan replied. "Which is weird, because she's always almost as early as you are."

"Maybe she texted Hotch telling him she was going to be late," Reid offered, scooping the rest of his usual five scoops of sugar. "Although it isn't like he to be late at all." Hesitating for a moment, he decided to put a sixth scoop in just for good measure.

Morgan started walking to the briefing room with his young friend following close behind. "I'm sure she'll turn up soon. In the mean time, Hotch and Gideon really want to get working on this case as soon as possible."

"Did they say why?" Reid inquired between sips of his coffee.

"Nah, you know Hotch," Morgan answered. "He doesn't like to talk about hte case before the briefing. Never could understand why." Arriving at his destination, he opened the door to reveal Jason Gideon, Aaron Hotchner, and Jennifer Jareau sitting at the table, waiting for them.

"Nice of you two to show up," said Gideon slyly, looking up at them.

"Sorry," Morgan said, taking a seat. Reid took the spot next to him. "We would have been here sooner, but Genius Boy needed his coffee fix."

'Genius Boy' didn't do or say anything to deny this statement. Instead, he just sipped his coffee. "Have you seen Prentiss?" Hotch asked. "The briefing should have already begun."

Both of the agents shook their heads. "No, we haven't," Reid said. "We were hoping that she texted you. Have you tried calling her?"

"I will if she doesn't show up in ten minutes. Meanwhile, let's start the briefing. She can get caught up on the plane."

Taking this as her cue, JJ stood up and started handing everyone case files, leaving the extra one in the empty chair for Prentiss. Pressing one of the buttons on her remote, the picture of a young woman, probably twenty-seven, appeared on the screen. She was long, luxorious blonde hair and startling blue eyes. "Two weeks ago, Samantha Coolidge was found naked and dead in a local park near Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. When the locals found her, she had many cuts located in her abdomen in the shape of a picture."

Reid looked up from the case file momentarily to look at JJ. "A picture?"

She nodded sadly. "Yes, a picture. You'll understand it better if I showed you." She pressed a button on her remote again, and another picture appeared on the screen. It was an enlarged picture of Samantha's abdomen, with many cuts as JJ had said. It depicted a large butterfly, wings stretched wide, flying in the wind. The work was done by a master, skillfully done with no mistakes or smudges. Parts of the skin seemed to be carefully scraped away, causing parts of the butterfly to appear shaded.

No matter how many gruesome things the team had seen, everyone reacted when this picture was shown. Reid adjusted his glasses and leaned forward, getting a closer look at the picture. Morgan adverted his eyes for a second, only to look back at the picture again moments later. Gideon leaned back and looked at the board with renewed interest, gazing intently. Even Hotch, forever stoical, shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

While the team reacted to the picture, the last remaining agent entered the room, breathless. "I'm so sorry I'm late," Emily Prentiss said, not looking at what was on the board. She sat down in the only remaining seat. "I left the house later than I usually did, and traffic was terr-" By this point she looked up to see what was on the screen and completely lost her train of thought. Flustered, she tried to find her words again, but found that she couldn't. Instead, she settled for "What the Hell is that?"

"Our next psycopath decided to carve a moth on our victum," Morgan explained.

"Actually, that's not a moth, it's a butterfly," Reid said, unconsciously showing his extense and sometimes overbearing knowledge. "It's easy to confuse the two, but butterflies have larger wings and thinner bodies than moths do. Though, some species of moths do try to imitate butterflies and other animals to protect themselves-"

"Okay, okay," Morgan said, sorry he said anything in the first place. "Our next psycopath carved a _butterfly_ on our next victum. Better?"

"That's not all he did," JJ said, pressing a button on her remote. A different girl appeared, this time with dark brown hair and deep green eyes. "Two days ago, Nicole Jacombe was found in a flower garden, also stripped of her clothes. She had similar cuts on her abdomen, this time showing a picture of a peacock." Another button was pressed and the peacock appeared on the screen. It was obvious it was done by the same person; the type of cuts were the same, small and detailed. If anything this one was even more beautiful, if that was the word for it. Although the reactions were somewhat muffled this time, the team still reacted.

Hotch was the first one to break the uncomfortable silence that had settled over the group. "Could we be looking at a cult here? I mean, carving pictures onto the bodies, we can't ignore the signifigance of that."

"I highly doubt that," Prentiss said, staring intently at the picture. "What cult do you know of likes butterflies and peacocks?"

"Okay," Morgan said. "Then what about a sadist? Maybe this guy takes pleasure in the pain that having these pictures carved onto them causes."

"That's not it either," Reid said, looking at his case file. "It says hear that the cuts were caused after they were already dead. They found extreme ammounts of carbon monoxide in their systems, and that looks like the cause of death. Carbon monoxide posioning is reletively painless; it actually puts the victem to sleep before they die. Not the first choice if the UnSub wants to cause the victems pain."

"So if this guy's not part of a cult, or a sadist, then exactly what are were looking at here?" Morgan asked.

No one really had an answer for that. They just sat there, looking at each other uncomfortably. Finally Gideon spoke, speaking for the first time since the picture was shown. "We're looking at an artist."

**There it is, chapter one! I hope I got most of the characters correct. If I did please tell me, or if I didn't please tell me how I can do better. I'll be updating this as soon as my muse will let me, with any luck by next Wednesday. Thank you again for reading!**


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